The Good Fight

I don't understand how today can have started so much better than yesterday, and I don't feel like I need to right now. Yesterday morning was one of the worst I've had in months, and today, in comparison, has so far been one of the best.

I woke up yesterday determined to take a bike ride to cheer myself up and feel like I had gotten something done, but after Kevin sat down and talked at me for forty-five minutes about how I'm procrastinating and I need to get my life together etcetera etcetera, I was too down on myself to consider being useful anymore. He has a way of making what should be a pep talk into something guilt-inducing, not that I'm blaming him for my own mental insecurities.

When I'm having a particularly harsh down moment like that, I have a tendency to take out my frustrations with self-body-mods. Some, probably most, people would tell me that's a terrible habit that needs to be curbed. It amazes me how many people can look down on someone else's method of dealing with pain and basically tell them they're a bad person for it. Alocoholism is an accepted method of drowning your sorrows; self-modification is not.

Never mind that my mods don't last, I don't seriously hurt myself, and I'm very careful to be safe and clean about it.

Not sure where that little rant popped up from. Anyway, I dressed to cover the marks yesterday, since I've never been one to show off my self-inflicted scars, and I didn't want Kevin to feel guilty, since he would find a way to. We went out to dinner with Wren and her new boyfriend last night and had a bunch of fun. I really like him, better than her last one. I hope things work out for her this time.

So I got up this morning and cleaned the kitchen, something I haven't done with any joy in quite a while. Cleaning is symbolic of different things for different people; for me, it means I'm feeling cheerful and productive. My OCD manifests in a slightly unusual form. For many people with OCD, they clean when they're depressed or experiencing anxiety, because it's a way to help them gain control of their surroundings. I'm the opposite; when I get depressed, the major manifestations of my OCD disappear. I don't clean, I don't organize, and I don't give a shit what order I eat my food in.

This is why I'm so ecstatic I was back to a normal cleaning attack this morning. I put away the clean dishes, washed the dirty ones, took out the trash, cleaned the cats bowls, fed the cats, put away the recycles, and I'm eyeing the fridge as being in need of a drastic reorganization. The weather is nice, I have the window and the doors open, and I feel GOOD in a way that I haven't felt in a long time. I didn't realize it had been so long until just now. It's scary that you can start falling into depression for a significant length of time and not even know.

I'm off to keep fighting the good fight.

This Sinking Ship

I am beginning to fall apart again, after I worked so hard to pick up the pieces and I thought I was doing so well. In trying to make everything right, I'm just ripping myself to pieces again. I want to be happy, and I want everyone around me to be happy, and those things can't all physically coincide - but I'm trying anyway, because it's what I do.

For as long as I can remember, I've been the pillar, the rock, the support for anyone and everyone who needed me. The first time I remember being that I was six, and I held my mother while she cried because her own mother was in the hospital. I was worried about my grandmother too, of course, but I didn't cry, even though I had never seen my mom cry before and it scared me. I knew she needed me to be strong, and I was.

In high school, my friend Maria cried on me when everyone else picked on her for being a foreigner. When I found out my mom had breast cancer, I didn't cry because she needed me. When Maria's mom died of the same thing, I went to the funeral and supported her. When my dad told us that he had Lou Gherrig's disease (ALS) and had approximately two years to live, I didn't cry. When we found out six months later that he was lying, I brushed it off.

When his alcoholism finally caught up to him and he did actually die, I stayed with him and my mom and my oldest sister in the hospital after the rest of the family had all gone home, and they never saw me cry. At my cousin's funeral two weeks later, I supported the rest of the family. At my grandmother's memorial service two months ago, I was the only one in the room aside from the pastor who didn't cry.

It's not to say I don't have feelings, or that I never cry; neither of those are true. But I've always felt it's my duty to be there for everyone else when they need it. When I want to be strong, I am. I never crack, not until the opportunity I'm looking for presents itself. The entire world could fall down around me - and there are days I've felt that it already has - and I would be unbreakable until it was all over.

When I started dating my first girlfriend and realized how many emotional problems she had from her past, I was her love, her support, and her personal therapist. When we broke up and I moved on to Kevin, I was the same for him. He said I showed him what real love was like after he broke up with his fiancee of four years; when his father was dying in the hospital, I was there at his family's side.

When I met Aiden at work, I was ecstatic to have made a new friend, as I am the posessor of a strange personality contradiction: I'm a good friend, and I love having friends, but I have a very hard time making them. Two days into our friendship he started telling me about his problems with his wife, and it was familiar territory for me; give a shoulder, offer advice. It was a comfortable place.

I wasn't entirely surprised when we ended up having an affair. We were both cute, friendly, had the same interests, and were experiencing stresses in our current long-term relationships. It almost made sense.

But I never meant it to go where it has. I thought it would be a physical thing, like friends with bennies, so we could both blow off steam and have some fun. But then we both managed to get emotionally involved. Suddenly I went from being the fling on the side to being told, "I'd rather be with you than my wife. You're so much more fun, so much more understanding..."

I am everybody's savior but my own.

Aiden, I'm sorry I've been ignoring you. I'm not trying to cause you any hurt or worry, but it's all I can do to hold myself together these days. I just can't get out of my own head and my own worries and problems. I feel like I'm drowning, and I'm grabbing at the only thing I can see that might save me, which is pushing you away.

As you have said to me before, I never wanted to hurt you in any of this. I was confused and didn't know where my life was going, but I never meant to take it out on you. I guess I did, and now I feel bad for doing it, and I don't know where to go from here. I'm pulling everyone in my life down with me and I can't figure out how to stop.

~

I don't know how to leave you

And I don't know how to stay

I've got things that I must tell you

That I don't know how to say

The man behind these empty words

Is crying out in shame

Holding on to this sinkin' ship

When nothing else remains

All I want is everything

Am I asking too much

All I want is everything

Like the feel of your touch

All I have are yesterdays

Tomorrow never comes

(Def Leppard, All I Want Is Everything)

So...the Stars are Aligned, or What?

I had agreed last night (well, mostly) to meet up with Aiden today between his jobs, but when this morning rolled around Kevin wouldn't leave the house. Technically he's supposed to be at work at nine, but he's usually there around nine-thirty and nobody cares. But this morning he didn't get there until eleven, because he was angry with his company because they haven't been sending him his expense checks on time. Well, I'd be upset too.

He did eventually go, and I gave him five minutes to get ahead of me and then found Aiden in a field-slash-hiking-area he'd showed me a couple of weeks ago. He said he wanted to talk somewhere more private, so he brought pizza and we sat in my car and ate, since it was raining.

He said his wife was going to leave him; he's said that before, so I asked what was different this time. It wasn't entirely clear, but it seemed that it wasn't clear to him either, and not that he was deliberately trying to keep anything from me. Apparently Lily has convinced her therapist that Aiden's emotionally abusive, so the therapist has been telling her to leave. She was going to wait until after their July Fourth party, but it slipped out last night at the marriage counseling. He doesn't know when she's planning to leave or any other details.

When I mentioned it to Wren, she said, "Yeah right. Don't you think it's just another one of her games?"

She could be right. Lily has a talent for making people believe whatever story she cares to concoct at the moment. Then again, she could be either listening to her therapist or manipulating her therapist into giving her advice she wants to hear.

And really, does it matter to me whether it's one or any of the above? It's Aiden and Lily's problem to work out, not mine. I have enough of my own right now, as was brought sharply to my attention last night when I went to bed with Kevin a little after one in the morning. I finally got up and went to sleep on the couch at two-thirty after melting down into a silent, sobbing panic attack while he snored.

He says I have depression. He's right, but we disagree about the cause, not that I've said anything. He thinks my depression is the reason I get bored in relationships after a year or so. I think I'm depressed because I am bored. He says I'm misinterpreting depression as "boredom" and I'm not really bored. I say the pull between the boredom and the attachment is what's causing the depression.

He, of course, wants me to go to the doctor and get medicated. I have no interest in antidepressants and think that sounds like a shitty idea. The battles continues.

Anyway, I got back from my short meeting with Aiden this afternoon, plopped down on the couch and started surfing the web. About an hour in, my phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID, wondering who would be calling me. Aiden was at work, Kevin was at work, Wren was at work, and my mother talked to me yesterday...it was Alejandra. I thought it would be longer before I heard from her, and I didn't think she'd call me.

Unsure what to say and knowing that bad cell reception and a sensitive conversation are a very bad combination, I let her leave a voicemail.

"Hi Skylar, it's Alejandra, I know you're probably still mad at me, I'm not really sure what happened, but I thought maybe we could talk it out, and depending on your summer plans [something unintelligible] and I hope you're out of school and classes and enjoying your summer and having fun. So if you could give me a call back that'd be awesome."

She's "not really sure" what happened? I thought I made it quite clear. Apparently not enough for her. I'm wondering if she's up here on vacation or something, or if today was a day to call for absolutely no reason.

Five minutes later...

It's one of those days. Wren just IM'd me to say, "You'll never guess who messaged ME!" I did, actually, on the fifth guess, and it was a guy from her past. Billy was her first love, and then a fuck toy eight years later, and now suddenly he says, "How are you?"

So. Anybody else gotten any weird calls lately?

TMI Tuesday

Have you ever...

1. had sex with someone ten years older or younger than you?

Yes - 13 years in fact.

2. drawn from a nude model or been a nude model?

No, but if someone paid me I'd be happy to!

3. had sex at a company Christmas party?

Hehe. No.

4. had a blind date?

No, I'd never do that. I'd be way too uncomfortable.

5. slept with a teacher?

No...

Bonus (as in optional): had sex with someone within an hour of meeting them?

Nope, not that either! Damn, this week made me sound boring.

TMI Tuesday #190

Chicks That Drive Sticks

Kevin and I spent this weekend tearing apart our motorcycles...well, his motorcycle. Mine ran with remarkably little coersion, needing only a couple of jump-starts from my car. His needed some parts replaced, including the carb intake boots and the cylinder intakes, plus the replacement of a truly frightening melted wire and the taping of the rear turn signals. I probably shouldn't feel as smug as I do about having a significantly nicer bike than my boyfriend.

The bike work was genuine fun, something I don't get nearly enough of these days. We were both involved, interested, and helping each other, and he was too distracted to be constantly making sexual comments and then getting pissed off when I didn't respond, as he spends most of his time doing now. I even had a moment of amusement when I grabbed a water bottle from the sink to clean my bike, filled it up, and started cleaning the bike...only to realize that the water that was already in the bottle was orange-flavored, and I was making the bike smell like fake oranges.

Even though it runs, I still have to take apart my bike to track down what I believe is a loose electrical connection somewhere. When I put it away last fall, the turn signals had stopped working completely after a short bout of working only when the bike was warm. When I took it out yesterday, they worked fine, but the battery didn't seem to be charging. After I had failed to jump it from the jump-pack and jumped it twice from my car, it still refused to start on its own...and then I left it, took a shower, came back, and it started fine. Perhaps another melted wire like the one in Kevin's bike? We'll find out tonight, I hope.

So I have a bike that works and a motorcycle license, but no registration, inspection, or insurance, because I can't afford those things. Kevin has a bike that works and the money for registration etcetera, but no motorcycle license and no idea how to ride. He proved that yesterday in a moment that could have gone horribly wrong but fortunately produced only minor damage on his part and concealed hilarity on mine.

When the bike was finally running and put back together, he asked me to ride it up and down the driveway to make sure it worked like it should. I did so with no problems, except for one strange issue: when I turned the handlebars in either direction, the engine revved to several times idle speed. I told him about it and he decided to have his friend come over one of these days and take a look. Then he said, "Should I try to ride it down the driveway?"

I knew that wouldn't end well, but also that it wouldn't be appreciated to tell him no, so I shrugged and told him to do what he wanted.

"Hey, what's the worst that can happen...I fall and get killed."

"Nah, the worst that can happen here is you break your leg," I said pragmatically, knowing there was a good chance that would actually happen. I got the bike situated so he had a straight shot from one end of the driveway to the other and handed it over.

It took him ten or so tries to let the clutch out without stalling it, and when he finally did get going, the result was exactly what I expected. He rolled to the end of the driveway, didn't brake enough or in time, tried to turn, the engine revved and the bike spun out from underneath him. I watched without moving as it stuttered, revved, turned, and started to go over, and he hopped sideways as it finally skidded out and landed on its side, fortunately not on his leg.

I jogged down to make sure he was all right, then helped him lift the bike back upright. Fortunately nothing had broken or spilled, and it started right back up for me. I revved the engine, let out the clutch, and rode it smoothly back to where it had begun.

Yes, the clutch is stiff and it needs a new clutch cable, but Kevin's swearing about the clutch being "too quick" for him was obviously bullshit. His hands are much stronger than mine and I had no trouble with it, though I wouldn't take the bike more than a mile because it would tire my hand too much. He just can't admit that he's not as good at driving a standard as he claims. I've watched him torture both my old car and Wren's, and winced every time. Power to the chicks that drive sticks, I say.

The Balance

I came up to my mom's house yesterday to provide tech support, get my car serviced, and get some peace. I was originally supposed to drive back down this afternoon, but upon finding out that the car had a damaged rim, had to stay through until tomorrow so it could be fixed.

Kevin and I get along better when we're not near each other as often. I know that's me; if he had his way, we would be together twenty-four/seven and it would be perfect. I, however, need my me-time, on a regular basis and in significant amounts. While I believe that everyone needs that to a certain extent, some people more than others, there are days I wonder whether he even needs two seconds a day to himself. It's like he exists entirely for me, has substituted my reality for his own (as Eben so neatly put it), and it's annoying as hell.

We're chatting right now about why I came back to him after our first breakup, and I'm trying to pull out answers to questions that I don't know the answers to, and trying to put them in words that aren't insanely insulting. I know I need to move out, but now I'm wavering between moving out and breaking up or just moving out and getting space, and continuing the relationship. I've actually told him that dilemma, which wasn't quite in my plans, but being honest doesn't feel like a bad thing. I've done enough plotting and lying and stupid crap, a little honesty is good for me.

TMI Tuesday

1. What was the last movie you saw on a date?

Wolverine...unfortunately, the guys sitting behind us wouldn't shut the fuck up for more than two minutes at a time throughout the entire movie. Determined to beat up at least one of them in the parking lot afterwards, I was most disappointed when the movie was over and I realized they were all about 12.

2. What was the last meal you had on a date?

Steak tips and pasta, right after the aforementioned movie.

3. When was the last time you made out in the car on a date? More?

Can't even remember.

4. Using dating websites do you think you are more likely to find a "hook up" or a relationship?

I never use those things; they sketch me out.

5. Do you have any special "first" date rituals? Flowers, certain restaurant, etc.?

Since I don't start dating someone until I'm already friends with them, and I'm never exactly sure what to count as a "first date," I can't really answer that.

TMI Tuesday #189